


DIY Diasater

by orphan_account



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 11:15:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1224220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone on Tumblr made the suggestion regarding a scene from 9X15. Reid is helping Morgan renovate a house, but becomes a little stuck when a plunger is involved. Morgan/Reid Friendship only.</p>
            </blockquote>





	DIY Diasater

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own CM.

“Give me a hand Spencer; sure it’s just a few house chores really.” Spencer Reid quoted, scoffing to himself as he swept the old wooden floor in a bedroom of a house Derek Morgan had been renovating. No matter how hard he tried, the dust seemed to rise into the air, and settle right where he had just brushed it from once more. He was beginning to feel the task at hand was as futile as trying to get blood from a stone, as Hotch had once described. It seemed a very apt analogy now. 

“Hey, Pretty Boy, how are you doing in there?” came a shout from down the hall, followed by a large thud, and the sound of something wooden being placed against a wall. 

“Just perfect.” Sarcasm was not Spencer’s natural traits, but five years working with David Rossi, had caused it to rub off on him, often to amusing results, as he knew when to use it, but never seemed to execute it as readily as the older man. 

He heard footsteps in the hallway along with a deep laugh as Derek walked towards him. When he arrived at the door, the laughing stopped as Derek nodded his head, impressed with Spencer’s work. “Reid, man, I have to say, you know how to sweep a floor.” 

“What are you talking about? Look at it, as soon as I brush it; the dust just rises, then goes straight back to where it was. It truly is an exercise in futility.” 

Derek merely laughed at his friend’s exasperation. “Well your version of filthy is pretty clean by everyone else’s standards, so I’m happy.” Spencer scoffed. “Why don’t you take a break from this before it dampens your good humour? 

Spencer merely raised his eyebrows, the last thing he could be accused of having since he found out how much work these “few chores” entailed, was having been in good humour, but he sighed and placed the broom against the wall and walked out of the room, hoping the change of scenery would settle his annoyance. As he walked into the stuffy old bathroom that Derek had been working in, he doubted it would. 

Derek had pulled the old rotten window frame from the wall, allowing light and air in for what seemed to be the first time in nearly ten years, though according to Derek, the house had been in use a mere four years ago. As a single cockroach scuttled across the floor, Spencer doubted it very much. 

“I am going to go down the block and get us something to eat. I am starving.” Derek said, pulling his jacket from the hook behind the door. Spencer wondered silently how the woodworm riddled structure even held the leather garment, but merely nodded as he looked at the mould covered shower head, precariously dangling from the rusted clip on the wall. He heard Derek leave the room and decided to attempt to get the bathroom started. He walked across the landing to the supply closet and took out bleach, a cloth and a basin. Filling it with water, from one of the large gallon bottles Derek had brought, and headed back to the small room. 

He scoured the tiles of the bathtub until they glistened, thankfully, though they were colourful with mould, it had been easily removed with some elbow grease and bleach. Part of him wanted to take samples to study, though, he thought better of it. The toxins in the fungus were probably more deadly than the anthrax he had ingested during the Nichols-Brown case a few years previous. He also made quick work of the sink and its faucet. “Where the hell is Morgan?” he noted, as he looked at the toilet. Most of the water long drained, and a horrible brown sludge at the bend looked at him as he went about thinking how to best do the task. He dreaded it, but knew it had to be done. He headed once more to the supply cupboard, in hopes of finding something that would aid his horrible assignment. He searched only to find nothing, but as he was about to close the closet door, he notices a slightly above average sized spider walk along the wall and onto it’s web, which appeared to be woven onto a plunger, right at the back. Spencer reached in and swatted away the arachnid, pulling out the utensil. He nodded to himself and went back to the bathroom. 

He stuck the plunger into the toilet and pushed down; hoping to create the suction necessary to release whatever foul concoction was caught in it. The sounds it was making made him equal parts scared and satisfied, he knew it was moving, but he was unsure what exactly “it” was. He pushed on the plunger twice more and realised it was completely suctioned down and would not move. It had jammed. He tried moving it this way and that, as well as trying to pull it out, however, it would not, nor could not, move. He struggled, and blew a stray curl of his hair out of his face as he attempted to loosen the tight grip of the plunger. But it was to no avail. 

He was so engrossed in his work, that he had failed to hear the older agent return to the house and call him as he ascended the stairs. The first Spencer Reid knew of Morgan’s return was when the older agent was right behind him calling his name. The shock of the unexpected noise caused Spencer to let go of the device and to flail backwards, into Derek, who had not expected the startled reaction of his colleague, which, coupled with the food and coffees he had in his hands, meant he was unable to defend himself as the surprisingly heavy lithe man collided with him. Sending both men backwards out the bathroom door, and landing on the hard wooden floor. 

Spencer realised all too late what was happening and braced his head for it to impact with the floor. It took him a moment, and a loud yell from Derek, to realise he had collided with something far softer than he had been expected. He felt strong hands pushing his head up and allowed them to move him. Sitting forward, he turned around, and realised what it was he had fallen on. There on the floor, writhing in pain was Derek, grabbing his crotch. 

Derek was unsure when he would ever top the shame of having to go to the A&E with such an injury, until he was forced to stay in Quantico for the next case, as he could not travel, and the team found out why. It didn’t help that he came into the office walking, as Rossi had put it, “like John Wayne and not in a good way.” 

What really made Reid feel embarrassed, was Savannah’s annoyance at him at first, that later turned to spontaneous laughter whenever the genius stumbled, as she pretended to throw herself in front of Derek to protect him, causing Derek to blush dark enough to see even with his skin, and all their other friends to laugh uncontrollably.


End file.
